Yesterday, I felt I was living a scene directly out of "Sex and the City.".
But, not the kind of scene one normally associates with the mostly humorous TV series about life, friendships, love and sex in NYC......
I received a phone call yesterday afternoon.
"Hi, my name is Denise. I am fostering and considering keeping, one of the cats from Cheryl. The cat was supposed to have been spayed, but she's not. I was told your organization would pay for the spay."
"That can't be!" I answered, somewhat taken aback by the call. "All the vetting was done on Cheryl's five cats. She assured me she had taken all of them in for neutering."
"Well, the cat went into heat recently. She kept me awake all night with the calling. She is not spayed."
"I can't believe Cheryl failed to do neuter in all this time! Those cats were rescued two years ago!"
"Cheryl died last week."
Stunned, I was suddenly transported back to a TV scene:
Carrie Bradshaw telling her Russian boyfriend that her friend, Samantha has breast cancer, but she is going to be OK.
"Ah, that is too bad," the lover answers somberly. "My friend had breast cancer many years ago. She died."
"Why are you telling me that?" Carries asks suddenly stunned and deflated.
"Because I don't want you to be disappointed or surprised."
"Don't tell me!"
I wanted to say the same exact words to Denise. "Why are you telling me that? Don't tell me!"
But, of course, I couldn't.
Instead, feeling like the air had just been sucked out of me, "Oh my God.....I didn't know.....had no idea.....that is so awful...."
Indeed, hearing that my next door neighbor had just died from breast cancer, was the very last thing in the world I expected. The thought had never even crossed my mind.-- Though perhaps it should have.....
I knew of course that Cheryl had been recently sick.
Surgery a couple of months ago, radiation and chemotherapy.
The last time I saw Cheryl about a month ago, she was weak, debilitated and required a visiting nurse. But, we both attributed that to the effects of chemo.
Our conversation was mostly about the placement of her five cats because, according to Cheryl, the Visiting Nurse Service would not come with animals in the home.
"That is not true," my friend and cat fosterer, Elizabeth told me later when asked to foster one of Cheryl's cats. "Their web site says nothing about not coming to homes with pets."
"Well, whether it does or not, Cheryl's cats need to be placed," I told Elizabeth.. "She can't care for them. She needs a wheelchair to get around."
Since the one cat Elizabeth had been fostering was recently adopted, she was able and thankfully willing to take in one of Cheryl's cats.
Cheryl assured me she had foster or adoptive placement for the other four cats.
One of them apparently was the woman named Denise on the phone with me yesterday.
Lost and reeling in the news of Cheryl's death, I told Denise I would call my vet to arrange payment for the spay. But I still couldn't seemingly grasp or fully absorb the news I had been told.
Indeed, I thought my greatest challenge with Cheryl would be dissuading her from getting a dog once the cats were placed as she had indicated she was planning to do.
"I am really a dog person." Cheryl told me more than a month ago. "I want to get another dog at some point. I never wanted all these cats." (At the time, I was pissed with Cheryl considering she was giving up all her cats.)
Unfortunately, the relationship between myself and Cheryl had never really been one of friendship, despite us being around the same age, unattached and long time, cordial neighbors.
Cheryl seemed to blame me for the fact she had five cats and I likewise held her responsible for not aiding me in getting the feral mother from the backyard of our building spayed two years ago before having the second litter of 5 kittens.
Cheryl was one of the two feeders of the 4 stray cats behind our building.
Although I had taken in a previous litter of kittens, vetted, fostered and adopted them out, I warned Cheryl and the other feeder two years ago, that I was getting out of animal rescue and wouldn't take in any more kittens or cats. It was important for both feeders to work with me to get the remaining cats in the yard neutered. That meant not feeding them for a day so they would be hungry enough to walk in a humane trap.
But, while the other feeder cooperated with the non-feeding for a day, Cheryl did not. She was under the illusion that kittens were "easy to place" and that Bideawee or one of the other no-kill shelters would "readily take them." I repeatedly warned Cheryl that was not the case, but she apparently did not believe me.
My attempts to thus trap the two female cats failed because they were never hungry. One of them subsequently gave birth to a second litter of five kittens.
Totally frustrated and downright angry, I then insisted that Cheryl take in and foster the kittens. I promised help with the expenses of vetting and neutering.
So that is how Cheryl ended up with five cats. And though her original fantasy was that no-kill shelters would take them, she found out, (as warned) that reality was very different from what appears on web sites or brochures.
Meanwhile, through the cooperation of the other neighbor and feeder, I was able to eventually trap, spay and release the remaining feral cats, including the mama kitty. Two years later, the 4 sterilized cats are happy, healthy and well fed by the other feeder.
But, the relationship between Cheryl and myself remained cordial, but somewhat strained over the past two years.
That is, until two months ago when learning that Cheryl had a return bout of breast cancer and needed some help with caring for and placing the remaining cats.
I just never considered that this bout of breast cancer would be deadly -- and deadly so fast.. (I personally know two other women who have had breast cancer and both are fine today.)
According to Denise, Cheryl had been lax and in "denial" about following up on protocols and things she needed to do as a previous breast cancer survivor. That may be, but did anyone expect this? Apparently, this cancer had been discovered too late....
Following the stunning call from Denise yesterday, I called my vet to confirm payment for the upcoming spay appointment. But, their records also show "Missy" the cat had previously been spayed. (Evidently, there is some kind of mix-up or some organ was accidentally left in tact.)
Then, I was forced to sit down and actually contemplate my relationship with Cheryl.
And unfortunately, the very last conversation with Cheryl about two weeks ago is one to be regretted now.
Little things, little annoyances.
I was pissed because Cheryl instructed one of her helpers to leave a half bag of unused cat litter outside my door.
At first, I placed the litter back in front of her door.
But, the next day it was in front of mine again.
I then called Cheryl.
"Cheryl, I don't appreciate things left in front of my door! I told you I don't use this brand of litter but even if I did, one should call and ask if something is wanted and not just assume or dump!"
Cheryl apologized and assured that the litter would be properly discarded. She sounded fine and chipper over the phone. I then told Cheryl that the kitty Elizabeth was fostering was doing fine and there was nothing to worry over. But, I still reiterated the stuff about not leaving the litter in front of the door again........
The following day, I felt somewhat guilty and regretful over the call. I considered calling Cheryl again to perhaps apologize for being so harsh, but decided against it.
After all, I would inevitably speak with and see Cheryl again.
"Cheryl died last week."
And just like the scene from the TV show.
"Don't tell me that."
Who am I to be critical of others for being in "denial," living in "fantasyland" or making assumptions when I am perhaps the one most guilty of these things?
A sad, sad lesson in humility.
That only I could say now, "I am so sorry, Cheryl." -- PCA
********
No comments:
Post a Comment